


Bottom of the Ninth

by TheQGirl



Category: LazyTown
Genre: AU where sportacus is bad at a sport, Alternate Universe - Baseball, M/M, So many cute baseball scenes, So much angst, inspired by the baseball episode
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9162460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQGirl/pseuds/TheQGirl
Summary: Robbie Rotten earned his nickname by being one of the most difficult pitchers to face in the Major League. A prodigy and someone who knew it, he was unstoppable— until beeline ball to the face ended his career. Now, he lives alone in a small town on a large property, reclusive and rarely encountered. He prefers it that way.Sportacus and his adopted daughter Stephanie have just moved in on the other side of town. In helping Stephanie adjust to her new surroundings, Sportacus looks into the little league situation, but is dismayed to find that none exists. He takes it upon himself to create and coach the LazyTown Leopards— despite knowing little about baseball, and despite not having a real field to use.





	1. Chapter 1

_Welcome back. We’re at the bottom of the ninth, two outs, men on first and third. Robbie Rotten pitching, and he’s starting to look a little agitated out there._

_I agree, Marty, and the pressure is high. If he gets this next out, the Bats win the World Series, and he gets MVP._

_Okay, Rotten looks ready to go._

_*crack*_

_A HIT! A MONSTER HIT!_

_AND- *muffled gasping*_

_……_

_Rotten is down. I… I’m not sure what happened there, but Rotten is down and not moving._

_......_

_Replay shows that he took that hit straight to the face._

_……_

_They’re loading him into an ambulance. He still hasn't moved._

_......._

_*sighing*_

_God help him._

——————————————————————————————————————————

Stephanie was aimlessly poking at her cereal, staring out of the large dining room window that overlooked the rest of LazyTown. Sportacus watched her for a moment before sitting down with his own breakfast (a single apple). He sat with her in silence for a few moments, admiring the view, before speaking.

“So.” He started off nonchalantly, “Any plans today?”

Stephanie looked over at him. “Yeah, I’m going to the playground with some of the kids I met yesterday.”

He hummed. “They seem like nice kids”.

Stephanie nodded, but didn’t smile. She poked at her cereal again.

Sportacus didn’t want to push her into speaking, but he knew something was bothering her. He took another bite of his apple and resolved to chew 100 times before inquiring further. He was at 57 when she sighed.

“I just… I really miss my team.”

Ah.

She continued, her voice pitching higher as the words tumbled out faster. “We always had so much fun and I like everyone here but it’s not the same and none of them even _know_ how to play baseball and-“ she hiccuped slightly, her cheeks reddening- “there’s not even a baseball diamond, so even if they could play we don’t have anywhere to go.” She turned away, blotting at her eyes with her napkin.

Sportacus quickly moved over to where she was sitting and kneeled down, putting his hand on her shoulder. She hiccuped again and leaned her head into his arm. He didn’t know what to say. Of course Stephanie missed her team— she l _oved_ playing baseball. In their last town she was always the most animated during baseball season, and had repeatedly stood up to coaches and other players who tried to push her into softball instead.

Sportacus had always preferred soccer, and didn’t really understand the intricacies (or even the more basic aspects, for that matter) of the game, but he loved cheering for Stephanie on the sidelines. Unfortunately, he already knew that LazyTown didn’t have any sort of Little League, and it was far removed from any surrounding cities that might. He had hoped— naively, apparently— that she would easily fall into another team sport like soccer or basketball. He internally chastised himself.

_You knew this was going to be hard for her. It’s time to fix it._

He sat back and looked at Stephanie as she sat up. “You know what? I have an idea.”  She stared at him, a hopeful smile starting to tug at the edges of her mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe I can set up a team for you to play on. It will be small,” he warned, trying to look serious as Stephanie broke out into a grin, “and we still won’t have a field. But it will be something.”

Stephanie threw her arms around Sportacus and hugged him tightly. “Thanks, Dad!” She sat back and then gasped. “I have to tell the others! We’ll need to practice!”

Sportacus smiled. “If you find a place to practice, I can come and try to throw some pitches. But only after you eat a little bit of breakfast!”

Stephanie looked back at her barely-touched cereal. “Oh, right!” She started shoveling it into her mouth, then paused to look back at Sportacus.

“Have you ever thrown a pitch before?”

“Nope!” He said brightly. “But there is a first time for everything, right?”

———

The sound of a crash upstairs jolted Robbie out of his fitful sleep. He detached himself slowly from his fluffy orange chair and grumbled loudly to himself while pulling on his robe. The ever-present ache in his jaw began to prickle, as if to remind him just how lousily he’d slept.

After dramatically stomping up the stairs, Robbie entered the kitchen to find glass shards covering the countertop, a broken window, and sitting innocuously in the sink— a baseball. Robbie snarled and snatched the ball up. He squinted out into the open field behind his house and saw a group huddled around a pine tree. The sight only served to make him angrier, and he proceeded to make his way to the back door.

Upon flinging it open, the group turned to look at him. The four children, one of which sported blindingly pink hair, shrunk back, while the sole adult— a shorter man, with a very odd-looking mustache and a hat pulled down over his ears— quickly turned to make his way towards the house.

Robbie huffed as he stomped across the grass. He stopped and the man started to say something, but Robbie cut him off with a low snarl. He held the baseball up, shaking it in the man’s face.

“Do you think this is some kind of joke?”

The man looked confused. “A joke? No, I’m sorry, we were playing baseball. I’m not very good at throwing, and I…. ah… accidentally… threw it through your window.” Robbie’s glare deepened.

“Accidentally? Ah, yes,” his voice went up an octave as he took on a mocking tone, “I _accidentally_ threw this baseball at the house of the poor scared baseball man!” He spit the last words at the man, who just looked more confused.

“Baseball man?”

That’s when the pink one ran over.

“Hey! Stop yelling at him! It was an accident!”.

Robbie turned to glower at her and she skidded to a stop, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Wait a minute… you’re…. _Robbie Rotten!_ ” She nearly whispered, her voice almost reverent.

Robbie grimaced at the inclusion of the last name, but that didn't stop her. Why did she have to keep speaking?

“I watched all of your games! The Bats are my favorite team! I remember when you struck the-“ she stopped suddenly as Robbie let out another snarl.

_“Enough.”_

He threw the baseball into the ground at the feet of the mustached man.

“Robbie Rotten doesn’t exist anymore. Stay off my property.”

With that, Robbie turned around and stomped back into his house, slamming the door behind him. He ignored the mess in the kitchen and went back down the stairs and collapsed into his chair.

His jaw was throbbing now, as were his temples, and he cradled his pillow and tried desperately to ignore the anxiety and fear clawing their way into his stomach.

Who was that pink girl to go about bringing up the past? Who was that man to bring baseball back into this town, back into Robbie’s life? He had worked so hard to ignore and so hard to forget.

Who were they to come here and start messing it all up?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> robbie's not so rotten these days, and sportacus can't help himself-- he's just too helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally got back to this story! I apologize for the long wait. The next chapter is already in the works and will hopefully be up before the end of the next millennium ;)

The kids sat around Sportacus’ dining room table in a jumble, happily munching on various chopped vegetables and peanut butter sandwiches. They chattered away— about school, sports, everything— and Sportacus could see that Stephanie was practically glowing. 

He smiled and breathed a tiny sigh of relief as he looked back at the computer screen in front of him. The eyes of Robbie Rotten, baseball star, stared back at him. He gave a cursory glance over the man’s wikipedia page. 

_Wow. He was really good._

After scrolling past the “Stats” section, he clicked on the “Criticism” section.

_Rotten has been the subject of much criticism. Fordmil Meansbad, the longtime first baseman of the Meyhem, has been particularly vocal, frequently tweeting jabs at Rotten to his 2.5 million followers. When Rotten’s longtime home was vandalized shortly after his career-ending injury, Meansbad was widely suspected but never arrested nor charged._

Guilt had settled in his stomach like a rock. _No wonder he was so angry,_ Sportacus thought. He scanned over the photos of Robbie’s old home, wincing at the broken windows and graffiti scrawled on the outside walls. 

_Coward._

Sportacus swallowed hard. He had to go make this right, or he was never going to be able to sleep again. He jumped to his feet. 

“Hey Stephanie, I need to go run a few errands. Will you kids be okay here for a little while?”

Stephanie grinned at him “Yep! We’re going to go to Pixel’s house. He has the newest Splatt game!”

Sportacus grimaced internally. “Have fun, but don’t forget to--"

“‘…take breaks to play outside” Stephanie recited with him. “We will! See you later!” And just as suddenly as they had been there, the kids tromped out the front door, Stephanie briefly hugging Sportacus before sprinting after. 

Sportacus smiled to himself momentarily. He remembered what he was about to do, then sighed, laced up his shoes, and left the house. 

 

—

 

Robbie finished sweeping up the broken glass and sat back against his countertop with a heavy sigh. _Thank god for the extra panes_ , he thought to himself, staring at the gaping hole in the wal. Ever since the first night a baseball came tearing though his window, he had kept extra sets of every exterior household necessity— windows, doors, cans of paint, whatever. It wasn’t paranoia, he told himself— it was preparedness. 

He was unsure as to how much time he’d been sitting there, lost in thought, when there was a sudden knock on his front door. 

Robbie ignored it. Startled out of his daydream, he started cutting the plastic bands holding the cardboard in place, inwardly groaning at the prospect of all this work ahead of him. _This is going to take for-_

Another knock on the door, louder this time. Robbie paused. 

“Hello?”

A jolt of fury mixed with fear pumped through Robbie’s veins. It was the man with the mustache. All resolve suddenly flew out of the hole in the wall and he strode to the front door. Robbie pulled it inward, nearly slamming it into the wall. 

“What do **_you_** want?” He snarled at the short man, still wearing his infuriating blue tracksuit. The man swallowed, then spoke in a quiet voice. 

“I… just came by to apologize. And to see if you wanted a helping hand with the cleanup.”

Robbie glowered at him. “Oh _really?_ And how do I not know that you’re some crank journalist and you don’t just want pictures of Poor Robbie Rotten’s _hermit house?”_

The man’s expression did not change, and he responded in the same even tone.

“I don’t have anything with me, not even a phone. You can check, if you’d like.”

Robbie started at him, dumbfounded for a second. _Check? Is he serious? Is he mocking me?_ The rage was still pulsing through him, but the man was still standing there, hands clasped behind his back, looking at him with an earnest (albeit slightly worried) expression.

_I’m safe. I’m okay. I’m safe. It’s not his fault. I’m okay,_ Robbie internally chanted to himself as he felt the anger begin to dissipate. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. 

“Mr. Rotten?” 

Robbie exhaled in one long sigh. 

“I’m… sorry. It’s been a long day.” The man nodded solemnly.

“Understandable. Again, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” he fell silent at Robbie waved his hand dismissively.

“I get it. Accidents happen. I’m sorry for yelling so much.” Robbie rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. The man offered his hand to Robbie. 

“I’m Sportacus, by the way. I moved to Lazytown a few days ago.” Robbie raised an eyebrow as he shook Sportacus’ hand. 

“Your name is Sportacus?” Sportacus chuckled.

“It’s a nickname, my old stage name from my aerobics years… but it stuck. It’s easier to pronounce than my full name, anyway.”

Robbie’s mouth quirked up a bit. “I know a thing or two about nicknames.” He stepped back, thought for a moment, then opened the door a little wider. 

“Would you like to come in?”

Sportacus beamed, and Robbie’s heart skipped a beat. 

“I would love to.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> awkward window installation, but they can't help it. sportacus is too excited and earnest, and robbie is a grumpy softie. the kids come back next chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU to everyone who has left comments and kudos, y'all are brightening my days an absurd amount. I love and appreciate you all!!
> 
> It might be pertinent to say that I don't have a beta so if you notice any mistakes pls let me know and I will fix them ASAP :)

Sportacus and Robbie stood side-by-side in the kitchen doorway, staring at the window. The brief silence that had fallen when they both set their eyes on the broken glass was becoming uncomfortable, and Robbie started to get a little nervous. 

_Was he lying? Does he even know how to replace a window? Is my kitchen too messy for him?_

Thoughts rampaging through his head, he turned to Sportacus, who was in the process of turning to him, and the silence was abruptly interrupted as both of them tried to talk at the exact same moment. 

“So where do you wa-”  
“Maybe this won’t wor-“

Robbie’s mouth snapped shut and Sportacus’ quirked up into a smile. “Sorry, go ahead.” He motioned for Robbie to continue, but Robbie shook his head. 

“It wasn’t anything important.” Sportacus looked at him with an unreadable expression for a few seconds before turning back to the window and clapping his hands.

“I was going to say— where do you want to start?” Robbie realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled deeply. 

“Shall we start with the broken pane?” He stepped through the doorway and over to the countertop. He picked up his work gloves and turned to hand them to Sportacus, then promptly dropped them in terror and shrieked.

“Robbie? Are you okay?” Robbie peeked through his fingers that were covering his eyes and glared at Sportacus who was looking at him with concern. 

“No, I am NOT okay, because you just did a BACKFLIP in my KITCHEN and almost **HIT ME**!” Robbie’s voice was embarrassingly high but he didn’t care. 

_What kind of person does a backflip indoors?? What kind of person does a backflip AT ALL??_ Robbie slowly stood back up from his panic-crouch and glared at Sportacus, who put his hands up placatingly. 

“I’m really sorry, it’s a force of habit— I’ll keep the flips to a minimum here” he said, apologetically. Robbie sputtered at that, trying to come up with an appropriate retort, but just grumbled and slapped the gloves into Sportacus’ hands, then turned to start unpacking the new pane. 

“Your house is very nice” Sportacus said, glancing out of the window before grabbing the pliers. “And this view is wonderful”. 

Robbie hummed in agreement, still focusing on his work. 

A few more minutes of silence passed before Sportacus tried again. 

“How long have you been in Lazytown?” he asked. Robbie sighed. 

“You’re awfully chatty, you know that?” Sportacus chuckled. 

“I’ve been told. Especially by my daughter.” 

Robbie looked up at that.  “You have a daughter?” 

Sportacus nodded.  “Her name is Stephanie. She’s eight years old. She was the one with the pink hair, who…”

“…rushed to your defense, yes, I remember her.” Robbie grumbled a bit,his cheeks turning red. “I’m… sorry about that, again. And I’m sorry for… yelling at her, too.”

Sportacus smiled. “It’s all right. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry if she was a little… enthusiastic about meeting you. To her, baseball players are practically superheroes.”

Robbie barked out a laugh. “Superheroes, huh? If that’s the case, I’m surprised she didn’t hate me on sight.”

Sportacus turned to look at Robbie. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know.” Robbie muttered, eyes still fixed on what he was doing. He could feel Sportacus’ gaze fixed on him, but he really, really didn’t want to look into those alarmingly blue eyes and reveal any more information about himself. 

“I did… look you up before I came here” Sportacus said in a rush. “But there was nothing that suggested you are a bad person.”

Robbie finally looked up at him. The angry response that had been clawing its way to the tip of his tongue evaporated at the earnest, almost naive expression on Sportacus’ face. _He means well,_ the reasonable part of his brain said. 

“Sportacus… let’s just put this pane in.” Robbie stood up and gripped one corner of the glass and looked at Sportacus expectantly. Sportacus blinked, opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and nodded. 

\- - - -

In very little time, the new pane was installed. After one last pass with the cleaning rag, Sportacus stepped back. Robbie quietly moved to stand beside him as they stared out at the clearing. 

“It is a nice view.” Robbie grumbled. 

“And a nice field” Sportacus added, with a tone of— was it disappointment? 

Robbie turned to glance at him with a questioning look. _Why do I feel like I’m about to agree to something I don’t want to do?_ he thought tiredly. 

Sportacus met his gaze, and his cheeks turned pink. “Mr. Rotten, I-“

“Robbie. Please.”

“Right. Sorry. Robbie, I know we haven’t gotten off on the best foot. In fact, we probably got off on the worst possible foot, but here’s the thing… Stephanie really loves baseball and I promised to help run a Little League team when we moved here, and…. I hate to ask this, but this field is the only place in Lazytown large enough to play baseball, and it would mean the world to her if we could use it for practices, and I promise we’ll only practice at the far end and hit into the trees instead of at your house, and there won’t be a lot of people, and—“ Sportacus fell silent as Robbie held up his hand. 

“You really do talk too much” Robbie grumbled as he gazed back out over the clearing. _Baseball practice_ ** _here?_** _Am I really ready for that? It's been so nice and quiet!_

He sighed. Sportacus was still staring at him with a look of nervousness and hope. _Like a damn puppy,_ he thought. 

_Damn it._

“Okay.” Robbie closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples.  “You can use it… **if and only if** you keep to the far side of the clearing… and don’t let the brats trample on my garden, and don’t bring outsiders. And please, **try** to keep it down out there.” He opened his eyes and turned to look at Sportacus. 

The expression on the shorter man’s face made color rise to Robbie’s cheeks. Sportacus was practically bouncing up and down, his smiles wide that his dimples had dimples. He grasped Robbie’s hand and pumped twice, and Robbie winced at the vice grip. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Sportacus said, excitedly. “Stephanie will be so happy to hear that! I should get home right away so I can start to plan— thank you, Robbie, thank you!!” And with that, Sportacus bounded out of the kitchen, down the short hallway and out the front door. 

Robbie stared at the retreating figure, then groaned loudly and stomped down the stairs. He threw himself into his orange chair with all the energy he had left and put his face in his hands.

“What have I **DONE**?”


End file.
